A Realization
by theconsultingtardisbananaangel
Summary: John gets a strange text from Sherlock. Hilarity (And Lemon) ensues.


John, I've come to a realization.  
SH

I'm at work, Sherlock. Better be important. What is it?  
JW

We must be married at once.  
SH

What?  
JW

Can you not read? We already resemble a married couple.  
SH

We really don't resemble a married couple at all.  
JW

We live together. We finish each others' sentences. We do everything together. We play board games, John!  
SH

That we do. But do we sleep together? Do you love me? No. Therefore, we're not getting married.  
JW

Actually...  
SH

What the fuck do you mean by actually?  
JW

No. You're entirely correct. We do not sleep together. That's a brilliant deduction.  
SH

Don't be an arse, Sherlock. What did you mean by actually?  
JW

Has no significance.  
SH

It has significance.  
JW  
To me.  
JW

Er...  
SH  
Historical figures often got married without loving each other.  
SH  
Obviously...  
SH

Why do you want to get married, anyway?  
JW

No reason.  
SH

Rubbish attempt. Try again.  
JW

...tax exemption?  
SH

Tax exemption. No.  
JW

...It's a reasonable anthropological argument.  
SH  
Of course.  
SH

Nope. Is this some crazy Sherlockian attempt to get me to stay? Because you really don't need to worry about that, if it is.  
JW

No, I'm quite confident that you won't leave.  
SH  
I just really like tax exemptions...  
SH

You don't even handle your own finances.  
JW

That isn't the point.  
SH

Then please, tell me what the point is? Because you wanting to marry me so you'll get tax breaks is completely ludicrous.  
JW

I'm afraid I cannot disclose that information to you at present.  
SH

Why not?  
JW

It is...a sensitive area.  
SH

So is asking someone to marry you.  
JW  
No, not asking, demanding.  
JW

It wasn't a demand, you would have to give legal consent.  
SH

You're avoiding the point.  
JW

Let's get some pasta. I'm hungry.  
SH

Bollocks.  
JW

No, I'm actually hungry!  
SH

Is this an experiment? Or something for a case?  
JW

No. Must everything I do be for such reasons?  
SH

Sherlock, you're worrying me.  
JW

I'm not ill, so do not worry.  
SH

That's not the only thing that makes me worry about you.  
JW

I'm not under any threat, either. Nothing to compromise my health.  
SH

You seem upset.  
JW

You can't possibly get that from a text. Even I can't.  
SH

Which of us has a better grasp of emotions?  
JW

That's a valid point. I stand corrected.  
SH

Tell me why you're upset.  
JW

I don't know if you'd call it 'upset', per se.  
SH

Tell me why you're... whatever you are, then.  
JW

You don't want to know.  
SH

Yes, Sherlock, I do, or I wouldn't have asked.  
JW

Fine.  
SH  
I'm... scared, and slightly manic.  
SH

All right. Why?  
JW

Emotions. They're scary, and I can't ward them off lately.  
SH

What emotions?  
JW

Ones other than my usuals, like contempt and pity. Things like... uncertainty and...others. SH

Do you love me, Sherlock?  
JW

You can't have known that. You can't have.  
SH

I'd love to marry you.  
JW

Are you serious?  
SH

Of course.  
JW

I'm scared, John. I'm not supposed to have these... feelings.  
SH

Being scared is okay.  
JW

I just feel... happy.  
SH  
And it makes me scared.  
SH

I'm glad you're happy. I'm happy too. I do love you as well, you know.  
JW

How...  
SH  
For how long?  
SH

Honestly, since I saw you with Seb. Although I don't think I realized it until you jumped.  
JW

For me, ever since I had to live without you. And it scares me more than anything.  
SH

You won't have to again, love.  
JW

What's going to happen, John? I've no experience in this whatsoever, and I'm afraid I'll let you down.  
SH

You won't. What do you mean by what's going to happen?  
JW

Like... with us? I've never, ever felt this way before. Never. I don't know what to say, what to think, what to do.  
SH

Well, I guess we'll have to work that out. What do you want to happen? I don't even know if you're interested in a physical side to the relationship.  
JW  
If you're not, that's perfectly fine.  
JW

I... don't know if I'm capable of any of... that, but everything is so out of my comfort zone that it can't hurt to try.  
SH

All right. Start small, then, okay? When I get home, would you be all right with a hug?  
JW

That's fine. I have been hugged before. Usually by relations.  
SH  
Not that I consider you a relation. Er, sorry.  
SH

If you marry me I will be. So, a hug when I get home?  
JW

I suppose.  
SH

So, just for future reference, what all have you done?  
JW  
Physically, I mean?  
JW

Hugged. I'm fine with it.  
SH

That's it?  
JW

I've been licked by a dog once or twice. Without my consent.  
SH

I'm going to pretend that you didn't just compare anything we might do together with being licked by a dog.  
JW  
That's really all you've done?  
JW

As I said, I've never felt any of this, therefore eliminating the pretenses of such activities.  
SH  
Apologies for the dog bit.  
SH  
I'm just nervous.  
SH

Don't be nervous. You're fine.  
JW  
You'll do fine.  
JW  
I won't do anything you don't want me to, I promise. And we'll work through this, just like we have done with everything else.  
JW

This is going to be a large undertaking on your part.  
SH  
I may become a nuisance.  
SH

You're not a nuisance, you won't become one. You brought me back to life, Sherlock.  
JW  
You're so important to me.  
JW

That means more than you could ever know.  
SH  
I was under the impression that you did that for me.  
SH

Guess we're a pretty good pair, then.  
JW

I suppose so.  
SH

I'm home in about 10 minutes. Are you actually hungry, or was that some sort of distraction? JW

I was, but I think nervousness has taken over.  
SH

All right, dinner can wait then.  
JW  
I know I can't make you stop being nervous, but I need to remind you that you know me, and trust me, and you'll be fine.  
JW  
I'm just around the corner.  
JW

~~

Sherlock's stomach was in knots. He wringed his hands, and paced back and forth around the sitting room. He sat on the couch, studying his palm, as the door opened. He glanced at John, and then back down at his lap. John cleared his throat.

"Hi. Sherlock. Hello." He seemed as flustered as John felt.

"John," he responded, smiling thinly. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

"Er... I have some leftovers in the fridge. I think I'll eat them. You hungry?" The awkwardness was palpable.

"Right. Yes. I mean, er, no. Not hungry."

"Right, yep. I remember, sorry." Sherlock cursed himself. _You ruin everything. He probably thinks you're not interested anymore. _In the kitchen, John decided he wasn't very hungry after all. His stomach turned the sort flips that would make an Olympic gymnast jealous. Sherlock turned on the TV.

"And in other news, the Taliban..." Sherlock contented himself with deducing the middle-aged newswoman. Recently divorced, one son and one daughter, nicotine addiction, credit card debt. He didn't realize that John was watching him as carefully as he watched the reporter.

"That face."

"Sorry, what?"

"Did I- shit. I meant to- not- you know. That was meant for my head."

"It's fine." The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned upwards. He risked a sideways glance at John. The blond now sat beside him on the couch. Sherlock's chest was on fire.

"Sherlock." The word was barely more than a whisper. John's eyes were full of longing. He bit his lower lip. Sherlock could no longer take the emotion. He propelled himself forward, knocking John backwards onto the armchair. He kissed John, hungrily, searchingly. John let out a small squeak, and grabbed Sherlock's lapel. Sherlock moved his knees until he was straddling John, and John buried his other hand in the dark curls.

"John," Sherlock breathed huskily in his ear. John responded by unbuttoning the top button on his shirt, the tight purple one that he so adored. But now he wanted nothing more than to remove it. Sherlock began to fumble with John's clothes, contact briefly broken as he manuevered John's jumper and shirt off over his head. His slender figure traced the scar upon John's collarbone. His own shirt lay on the floor now with the jumper, and he moved his mouth back to John's. John trailed kisses down Sherlock's chest, and he teased a perfect, pink nipple with his tongue. Sherlock gasped at the warm, wet contact that sent shivers down his spine, leading him to buck his hips into John. He felt briefly embarrased, but was reassured when John began to unfasten his trousers. Sherlock began to breath fast, and the burning ache in his chest was joined by one between his legs. He felt himself loose control of his motions, and he moaned deeply, feeling something powerful and new: lust. He slid his trousers off, leaving only a pair of deep blue boxers that strained against the growing hardness. He felt John beginning to stir under him, and undid his pants until a pair of red briefs showed through. He looked at John, red and sweating and squirming beneath him. His eyes were filled with the love and the lust that Sherlock felt, and he looked almost…predatory. He grinned, and pushed Sherlock back. He lost his balance, and fell over the edge of the couch with a squeak. John dove on top of him, landing on Sherlock's legs.

"You're mine," he growled, and Sherlock closed his eyes, the fear rushing back, mingling with the anticipation. He grabbed a handful of rug, and bit his tongue. John gently teased open his knees, and pulled both sets of underwear completely off. "Suck." John placed two fingers in Sherlock's mouth, and he oblidged. In a moment, he removed them, and teased Sherlock's entrance, stroking and rubbing. Then he plunged them in completely, wettening the inner walls of his lover. Sherlock's eyes watered, and he began to cry. John was grunting, and soon the fingers were out and Sherlock felt something hot rubbing against the inside of his thigh. "You okay?" John asked with some difficulty, using up every bit of self-control he had to consider the man underneath him.

"Mm-hmm." Sherlock began to sob, overcome with the relization that John would have stopped if he asked him to. John melted at the sight of this, and kissed Sherlock's forehead before plunging in.

"You're- you're so tight." He paused, relishing the feeling of being completely closed in. Sherlock tried not to yell out in pain, but dug his nails into John's back. His world was alight with the white-hot pain, and he shrieked as John began to move. Thrust followed searing thrust, and John's rythmic grunts were the only thing that kept him sane. Then, John hit a spot deep inside him that made him scream. John cried out, and began to move faster and faster, until he spilled into Sherlock. Sherlock bit into an earlobe as John came, and when he pulled out he flattened out Sherlock's legs and lay down on top of him. But Sherlock was still full of lust. John was exhausted, but he slid off of Sherlock. "Your turn," he said, panting, and nudged Sherlock's knee. Sherlock moaned as he mounted John, and slid inside of him. His eyes widened and he saw stars at the sensation that overcame him upon entering. The world spun out of focus, and it was just him and John and this pleasure and John and John.

"JOHN!" Sherlock screamed. He ached for release, and a groan from his lover sent him over the edge. His body tensed as he orgasmed, and he lay beside John, both panting and gasping.

"Well," said John, lying on his side, facing Sherlock. "That was the best sex. Ever. Really."

"Shh." Sherlock's heart calmed as he pulled himself back onto the couch. He grabbed John, and positioned the shorter man on top of himself. He brought a blanket over both of them, and they fell asleep, their hearts beating the same rhythm.

People were going to talk.


End file.
